


Cry On My Shoulder

by roseofalderaan



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: CC-3636 | Wolffe Needs A Hug, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Force-Sensitive Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jedi Reader (Star Wars), Minor Character Death, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28817802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseofalderaan/pseuds/roseofalderaan
Summary: (I Don't Mind Your Tears)Wolffe was not gentle, but sometimes it seemed as if he tried hard to be when he was around you. All of his mannerisms, his attributes, every step he took to show he cared even if it wasn’t outright, everything about him, had made you fall.And oh how deep you were.
Relationships: CC-3636 | Wolffe/Reader, CC-3636 | Wolffe/You
Kudos: 13





	Cry On My Shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> Wolffe has a bleeding heart, and deserves hugs and kisses. 
> 
> Reader is said to be a Padawan, but they're on the older end of the spectrum (19-20).

Falling in love with your Grandmaster’s commander happened gradually, and then all at once. 

You hadn’t meant to, hadn’t expected it. Sure, you had cared for people before, had traded a kiss or two with another padawan in a quiet corner of the Temple library, but it had never been  _ anything  _ like how you felt for Wolffe. 

Just seeing him made a grin grow wide across your face and butterflies settle in your stomach. His voice, though the same as every other clone, often made the butterflies worse. His sense of humor was dry and sarcastic, often making you snort or start giggling, only to earn a glare from your Master if they were in the same room. He was your favorite sparring partner, as he was hard to fool and made you think on your toes, and according to him, you improved during each session. Your cheeks burned and you would try to avoid running a hand through your hair each time he said it. Wolffe was not gentle, but sometimes it seemed as if he tried hard to be when he was around you. All of his mannerisms, his attributes, every step he took to show he cared even if it wasn’t outright, everything about him, had made you fall. 

And oh how deep you were. 

It was lucky that the day your feelings came to head, your Master had allowed you to complete a mission with Master Plo Koon. Wolffe was allowing you to sit in his office, as all the other ones were currently in use or designated for a certain person. You were taking up the far corner of his desk space, your datapad in your lap as you read over reports and took notes off of them. 

“Are you finished with this report?” Wolffe asked, picking up one of the datapads you had placed on the edge of your pile. 

You glanced up from your notes and squinted at the datapad. “Let me check.” Wolffe handed it to you, and you read over it. “I already read over that one, go ahead.” 

You handed it back to Wolffe, who turned back in his chair. Your eyes caught on the shape of his nose, the scar that cut into his cheek. An urge to trace it emerged, though you had no desire to bring up the memories that came with it. Just thinking about what had happened made you wish you had been there to stop Ventress, but you hadn’t and it was too late now. Your eyes sloped down to his lips, then the shape of his jaw. At some point, you had gotten better at identifying the tiny and almost insignificant differences between the clones. Wolffe’s jaw had always seemed sharper than the others, but maybe it was a trick of the light. Wolffe was handsome, attractive to you in a way others were not. But you would never tell him that. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be reading those reports?” Wolffe rumbled, arching his bisected eyebrow at you. 

You felt your cheeks burn. “Of course.”

Wolffe nodded in response, and you turned your attention back to the reports you were supposed to be reading. This particular report was one of a recent battle with your battalion, one you’d missed since you had been at the Temple for a class. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the heartbreak you were bound to feel. You read the description of the battle, but when you came to the casualty list, tears sprung to your eyes. 

_ CT-59-7829 - Deceased  _

_ No, no, not him.  _ Sage. Sage was  _ gone.  _ Your favorite medic, the one who could sit and listen to you for hours was gone. The one you had helped name, Sentinel’s closest brother, would never smile at you again. The clone who had called you  _ kih’vod  _ would never get to call you that again. He was gone, lost on a planet you could not visit. You would never be able to mourn him properly, the way you had promised him one night after he’d drunk too much.

Your throat tightened up, anguish washing over you, and you desperately tried to get more air before the sobs could start. You pushed your chair back and stood up, wrapping your arms around your middle. Your datapad clattered to the floor, alerting Wolffe to your actions. A wail escaped you, tears finally rolling down your cheeks, and you bent forward, feeling like you would crash to the floor any minute. Hands grabbed you and yanked you to a strong body, giving you something to lean against as you cried. You were only half-aware that it was Wolffe, too consumed by grief to process everything. 

This was familiar to you. Wolffe had become your rock in the few years you had known him, and was always ready to talk when you lost a soldier who had been even the littlest bit kind to you. Wolffe had held you dozens of times before, letting your tears stain his blacks or roll down his armor. You had done the same for him after Abregado and _ the Mavelovence  _ Crisis. That was the worst of the many instances one of you had needed to seek comfort in the other.

_ “Wolffe, you’re going to get yourself hurt.” You said from the door of the training room Wolffe had spent more time than was needed in.  _

_ Wolffe didn’t look away from the punching bag he was using, he barely even turned to look at you. His eyes did not look red, not like they would have had he figured that crying was the best way to express his emotions. Instead, they had dark circles underneath them and his eyes were narrowed as if in anger. He looked much like Master Plo had described to you. Master Plo had only been able to get Wolffe away from the training room for a few minutes and hoped you would be able to do better.  _

_ You moved from your position against the doorway and walked towards him. He was probably exhausted, so your best bet was to get him to your room here in the Temple. “Wolffe,  _ elske,  _ you need to take a _ break.” 

_ “Can’t,” Wolffe grunted.  _

_ You rolled your eyes and held a hand out. Your concentration went to stopping the swinging of the punching bag, stopping it on its backswing where it was furthest from Wolffe’s fists.  _

_ “Hey!” Wolffe snarled, whirling to face you.  _

_ “You’ve been in here for too long! Everyone is worried about you!” You shouted back, leveling your gaze to his.  _

_ His eyes narrowed to slits and he hissed, “I’m fine.”  _

_ “I’m sure you are.”  _

_ Wolffe took a step forward, likely an attempt to scare you off. You were not easily deterred. You let your concentration break and the punching bag went back to its swinging.  _

_ “I know you’re hurt, and that you’re trying to grieve, but this isn’t the healthiest way to do that.” You reached for one of his hands, trying to soothe the pain you knew was coming from the bruised knuckles. You grabbed it, running a thumb over it as your minimal training in Force healing took over.  _

_ Wolffe’s eyes stayed trained on his hands, before glancing up at you. The amber orbs were glassy, a sign of the tears that were yet to come. Having been satisfied that you had done the best you could to heal the bruises and torn skin, you pulled Wolffe into an embrace, wrapping your arms around his middle and whispering words of encouragement as he finally broke down.  _

Long minutes later, the sound of your cries died down completely and you were suddenly aware of the fact that Wolffe was running his hand up and down your back, between your shoulder blades, and in a soothing motion. He wasn’t saying anything to you, but his silent support means so much more than anything else. You leaned back to wipe at your eyes, getting rid of the final tears. Wolffe isn’t really staring, but his eye is trained on you. You tilt your head a bit, considering what your next action should be. 

“You better,  _ cyare _ ?” Wolffe asked, voice soft and low. 

“Yes, thank you,” you whispered back, nodding. 

And before you can think of anything else to do, you press your forehead to his. You know that the Keldabe kiss is Mandalorian in origin, and many troopers had picked up the habit of doing it with their brothers before battles. You had been lucky enough to receive one from your fellow Commander, Sentinel. But you had never seen Wolffe do it with anyone. Regardless, it was the only way you could think of to thank him. You had closed your eyes, wishing that the Force would allow the moment to stay. 

You shifted a bit, moving so Wolffe wasn’t straining his neck to reciprocate the gesture of thanks. Your lips brushed his as you moved, and you froze. Your eyes snapped open, and anxiety brushed over you as you realized it had almost been a kiss. Wolffe did not speak, did not move, for a long moment. Then he cracked a small smile.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked, almost jokingly. 

It was weird to hear the normally stoic commander make an attempt at a joke that was not his normal style, but you found it endearing. You pressed your lips against his softly, eyes closing slowly. Wolffe moved his hand to your jaw, pressing firmly against you. You draped your arms around his shoulders, one hand coming to card through his hair, the other drawing small circles on his back. It was slow and soft. You tilted your head slightly, and your nose brushed against his cheek. Wolffe almost smiled against your lips, you felt the quick movement of it. Wolffe pulled away and you chased after his lips before opening your eyes. 

“Wow,” you whispered, more than a little awestruck. 

Wolffe did not blush, no, but you felt the way he shifted slightly. You smiled again, your heart beating against your chest as you moved back to your seat. 

No, Wolffe was not soft in the way most people were. But he still cared, and that was enough for you. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on my tumblr, which is roseofalderann!


End file.
